


Tangerine

by livinginnightvale (cloudsgrl)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anxiety, Drabble, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Not Beta Read, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsgrl/pseuds/livinginnightvale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil and Carlos developed a code for speaking long ago.  And because of it, Carlos hates the word "tangerine".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangerine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OctoberSpirit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoberSpirit/gifts).



Back when the relationship was still new, still a mess of floundering limbs and nervous unspoken words, Cecil and Carlos developed a code. The code helped with interpreting emotions, and offering a quick and easy explanation for why they were acting the way they did.

Sometimes the poor scientist would generalize his emotions, saying he was happy or sad, when what he felt was far more complex and elaborate, and without a specific term. Carlos relied on science terms. He identified what chemical he was low on, or high on, and would state it. He even went through the trouble of making a little key for Cecil to reference. By using the chemical names, it helped Carlos with his alexithymia and could give Cecil a vague idea of what emotion he was feeling, even if Carlos didn't necessarily have the word for it.

Cecil, however, used colors, and odd descriptions for his; things like "under the sofa", "crawfish", and "tangerine". Rarely did the verbose man have to rely upon these terms to help Carlos understand, but when he did, Carlos knew how to react. He knew "Under the sofa" meant that Cecil wasn't feeling up for interaction, and was feeling rather low emotionally; "under the sofa" could last days, if not weeks, and Carlos never wished to see Cecil "under the sofa". "Crawfish" dealt with confrontational behavior and not feeling comfortable around said person. The cure was removal of the person, and some cuddles, which were helpfully offered consistently.

But "tangerine". "Tangerine" meant Cecil had changed his mind. "Tangerine" meant that Cecil wasn't feeling great, didn't want to be around people, and wished to cancel all plans and hide for a while. "Tangerine" wasn't as bad as "under the sofa", but could easily move into that territory if it wasn't caught fast.

Carlos hated "tangerine". Carlos despised it. Not because it meant that they had to cancel plans, but because it meant something had set his boyfriend off, and there wasn't any guarantee that Carlos could do anything to help. He sometimes just had to sit there, clutching his phone tightly in the living room as Cecil curled in a ball on the bed, crying for some indeterminable reason, hoping that Cecil would feel well enough to come out and get comfort. Carlos had to hide his face in his knees, taking shaky breaths and fighting the chest pain so he could be ready to comfort Cecil when he wanted it. 

And then Carlos got stuck in the other world. Carlos got stuck in the desert of eternal day, wandering with Doug and Alesha and their giant dog. Carlos floundered with emotions again. Carlos went back to generalizations. And Cecil? Cecil was "tangerine". A perpetual tangerine. A tangerine of all hours. Somehow the radio host had avoided falling "under the sofa", somehow he managed to continue going to work, and responding to text messages and SnapChats despite his ongoing nightmare.

Carlos's alexithymia had flared, and Cecil was tangerine.

At night, when Cecil attempted to drown himself in alcohol to forget the pain of loneliness, Carlos would clutch his phone tight to his chest, bury his face in his knees, ignore the worried mutters of Doug, and allow the combination of oil, water, and mucous trace rivers down his face. His chest would heave with shaky breaths, fighting the burning pain and the way his limbs would shake. Carlos would count his breaths, fight back the tears, clean his face, and send Cecil a text message. Sometimes about the science, sometimes about the latest information he learned about the Masked Army, sometimes it would be ramblings about the stars, or silly emote combinations to tell a story. Many times, he'd send, "Hello, Cecil, how are you today?". Cecil would respond, "Tangerine." And Carlos would take a shaky breath, fight the indescribable emotion, and send, "I'm sorry." He had to fight to not send it ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times. He had to fight to not beg for Cecil to be happy, to no longer be tangerine. Carlos had to blink back tears, send a happy emoticon, and pray that Cecil would not go "under the sofa".

"I just want to help," he told Doug one day, voice shaky, breaking slightly.

Doug's voice rumbled from deep in his chest, and the Masked Warrior would lightly tap Carlos on the head. "I'm sure you do. But you can't help him from here."

"I want to."

"Then do so."

"It's not that easy!"

Carlos would text Cecil the following night and deny himself the chance to say he wished he could help more. He'd ignore that sensation that he was almost certain was hopelessness, hating the fact he couldn't do much more. Carlos would send, "Hello, Cecil, how are you today?" and dread the moment he received the "Under the sofa" text.

Carlos hated "tangerine".

**Author's Note:**

> So this drabble I just wrote is inspired by my girlfriend's code for emotions, and how sometimes she just doesn't have patience to describe how she feels at the moment. And as much as I wish I could help more, I'm too far away to do much of anything. And the emotions from that I just kind of rambled in here, as I thought it applicable to Carlos and Cecil at the moment.


End file.
